


Hot Date

by Defiler_Wyrm



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Breeding Kink, Come Swallowing, Crossdressing, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Feminization, Forced Feminization, HYDRA Trash Party, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Humiliation, Lingerie, M/M, Misgendering, Oral Sex, POV Bucky Barnes, Praise Kink, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rumlow's Fragile Masculinity, Sadism, Sexual Photography, Slurs, Slut Shaming, The Winter Soldier is a Salty Bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 22:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14903199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defiler_Wyrm/pseuds/Defiler_Wyrm
Summary: Brock earns some "quality time" with a compliant Winter Soldier, but that doesn't mean the Winter Soldier is fucking happy about it.A fill forthis prompton the Hydra Trash Meme.Excerpt:The Winter Soldier did not like having his face touched. Not by anyone but his handler. On pure instinct he snatched Rumlow’s wrist the instant he grabbed the Soldier by the jaw, and the agent sucked in a terrified breath. It was only his standing orders that kept him from pulverizing the bone beneath his metal fingers. Doing so would be as easy as tearing paper. He could rip that entire arm right off Rumlow’s body if he wanted; but he’d been ordered to obey.





	Hot Date

There wasn’t much to do in the containment room but wait. The Winter Soldier was patient, but not immune to boredom, especially without a clear mission. He’d been scrubbed down and shaven clean but to what end he had no idea yet. If nothing else he had orders: wait here, obey Agent Rumlow when he arrived. But that was it. He did a slow turn in place, taking in the room: here, a chair; there, a camera and intercom in the corner of the ceiling; there, a low-slung cot of a bed with a single pillow and military-perfect sheets; there, the door; and there ended the tour.  
  
He restrained a sigh. He wasn’t immune to boredom, no, but neither was he immune to punishment for letting it show.  
  
After somewhere in the ballpark of forty-five minutes of waiting, the door opened, and Agent Rumlow swaggered in. He carried a standard pack with him; it seemed mostly empty, but there was never any telling with Rumlow. The STRIKE agent seemed in good sorts. The Soldier knew better than to let himself think this was going to be an easy time because of it.  
  
Rumlow eyed him up and down in a way that made a little ice-cube trickle of dread shiver down the Soldier’s spine. He stood at parade rest as the agent stalked a slow circle around him, inspecting just outside arm’s reach, and then another circle just within. Most personnel liked to keep a safe distance as one might a bear or a chained tiger. When they strayed closer things had a tendency to go poorly for someone. Sometimes that someone was the Soldier himself.  
  
Seemingly satisfied with his appraisal, Rumlow settled into the chair facing the Soldier. “Strip,” he ordered.  
  
Fuck’s sake. It was one of  _those_  missions. The weapon arm clicked and shifted in response to the sudden tightness in his body. The Soldier gritted his teeth and breathed deliberately as he peeled out of his leather and canvas tac gear. He could only vaguely remember other times; maybe he’d luck out and Hydra would take his memories of this time, too. He just had to get through it in the first place.  
  
Cold air pressed in against his naked flesh, drawing goosebumps up along his flesh arm. As soon as he straightened he had to snap a hand out to catch the pack that was thrown at him.  
  
“Open it,” Rumlow told him. He still spoke Russian like he learned it out of a book. “Put on what’s in there. All of it.”  
  
Maybe this wasn’t one of those missions? He opened the bag and pulled out the first of a few items—and stared at it, because he was not technically allowed to ask Rumlow what the fuck.  
  
It was a lady’s undergarment. A lacy black brassiere. This was...surely not meant for him.  
  
He reached in again and came back with a matching pair of panties. He looked up and Rumlow. From the look on the agent’s face, one, it was indeed meant for him, and two, it  _was_  that sort of mission after all.  
  
The Soldier sighed through his nose as silently as he could manage and put the fucking things on. His pectoral muscles only filled out the cups most of the way, and the panties’ back ran right up the crack of his ass. Wonderful.  
  
“All of it,” Rumlow reminded him. Next was a little flared tube of fabric that took a moment to register as a miniskirt. It strained dangerously going over the meat of his thighs. He had to do an odd little shimmy to get it up to his waist, and it swished as it settled.  
  
Hm. If he didn’t know he was in for something unpleasant, that little swish might have been fun.  
  
The last item in the bag was a little black tube. He looked it over, straining to guess what it was, and then it came apart in two pieces: lipstick. A crease formed between his brows. Something about the waxy-looking red column was familiar.  
  
This was Murphy’s color.  
  
Also, he was a living weapon. How was he supposed to know how to put on fucking lipstick. He gave Rumlow a look that surely bordered on insubordinate.  
  
Rumlow just laughed and stood, sauntering over. “What kind of a dumb girl doesn’t know how to put  _that_  on,” he taunted, slipping into English. The Soldier clenched his teeth; that was a rhetorical question. “Silly broad. Here, lemme do it for you.”  
  
A second later the lipstick’s cap clattered to the floor.  
  
The Winter Soldier did not like having his face touched. Not by anyone but his handler. On pure instinct he snatched Rumlow’s wrist the instant he grabbed the Soldier by the jaw, and the agent sucked in a terrified breath. It was only his standing orders that kept him from pulverizing the bone beneath his metal fingers. Doing so would be as easy as tearing paper. He could rip that entire arm right off Rumlow’s body if he wanted; but he’d been ordered to obey.  
  
“Don’t be shy.” Rumlow growled it out like a warning. “Just open your mouth and hold still.”  
  
The Soldier took in a breath through flaring nostrils and obeyed. He  _really_  didn’t like things being put into his mouth, but that happened all the time anyway and there was no help for it. Nothing went in this time, though. Instead Rumlow held his chin and carefully smeared red pigment across his lips.  
  
Rumlow leered at him and petted his hair. It would have been nice under any other circumstances. “There you go. You’re so pretty, doll. Put this away now.”  
  
He handed off the lipstick to the Soldier, who felt that same ice trail down his spine at the prospect of bending down to grab the cap. It happened without incident, blessedly, but not without comment.  
  
“I like it when you bend over like that, mm,” Rumlow hummed as the Soldier capped the makeup and tossed it back into the bag. His hands came in light on the Soldier’s sides as if he was afraid to touch, then gained confidence as they traveled up to his chest. Soon he was cupping and kneading the muscle there, pressing the Soldier’s pecs together to form cleavage.  
  
“You got real nice tits, babe, you know that?” Another rhetorical question. Rumlow’s thumbs rubbed circles against his nipples through the lace. The sensation was—sharp, and bright, and unwanted; it made the breath catch in his throat. “You like that, huh? Ever had your titties played with like this, huh? No, I bet you haven’t. Lookit you, you don’t even know what to do with yourself, do you, girlie.”  
  
Christ, that was irritating. But if he didn’t have a say in this—he never did and never would—he might as well let himself experience a little pleasure before the truly bad part started. He let his eyes close, felt his nipples harden into taut peaks between Rumlow’s thumbs and forefingers now.  
  
The agent seemed to like that a great deal. “Yeah, that’s a good girl, feels good, huh? Such nice big tits and they ain't never even been played with before. Bet they’re sensitive, huh. Don’t worry, dollface, I know how to treat ‘em right. God, I’d love to fuck these tits sometime.”  
  
Ugh, what a horrible thought.  
  
One of Rumlow’s hands wandered while the other groped his chest. It gripped the crest of his hip suggestively, then slid down the miniskirt to grab a big handful of the Soldier’s ass. He nearly choked. The agent shushed him.  
  
“It’s okay, sweetie, it’s okay, we’re just having a little fun is all. You just relax and let Brock make it good for you.”  
  
That was a fucking lie but the Soldier resolutely did not grumble about it. He just stood there awkwardly and let a man that he technically outranked in normal circumstances fondle him like a piece of meat. Fine. This was fine.  
  
His spine stiffened when he felt the agent inch up the skirt and dip his fingers underneath it, right along the back of those damn panties where they rode his ass crack. He got shushed again instantly. Rumlow transferred his other hand down to the Soldier’s hip to keep him from shying away. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, baby, it’s gonna be good. What’s the matter, sweetheart, no one ever touch your little pussy before?”  
  
The Soldier  _knew_  they had to have, he  _knew_  he’d been used for recreational missions before, but he couldn’t fucking remember anything clearly...just pain and humiliation and mess. Apparently this one was not a rhetorical question, because Rumlow pinched his ass hard and repeated himself in a warning growl.  
  
“I asked you a question, girlie. When a man asks you a question you better answer. No one’s touched your pussy before,  _have they?”_  
  
He wasn’t stupid. He could figure out Rumlow’s humiliating little game from context. So he schooled his voice and said, “No sir.”   
  
If he made his own voice a little more gruff than usual, Rumlow could go cry to Pierce about it.  
  
He wasn’t counting on Rumlow grabbing his hair and ordering, “Say it.”  
  
The Soldier licked his lips and instantly regretted it. “No one’s ever touched my pussy before,” he almost-grumbled.   
  
“Tell you what, girl, I’m gonna be the first.” Rumlow’s pupils dilated. His fingers trailed up and down the Soldier’s crack, teasing across his sensitive hole. It was another of those things that, in the right circumstances, would probably feel really fucking good. And then they were gone from there, cupping his ass instead. “But if you want me to make your cunny feel good you’re gonna have to earn it. You wanna earn it, right?”  
  
For fuck’s sake. He nodded, because that’s what was expected of him, and the Winter Soldier lived up to expectations. Rumlow’s hands landed on his shoulders then and pushed him toward the ground. He wasn’t strong enough to actually force the Soldier to his knees, but he went anyway.  
  
“That’s a good girl, gonna show you something real fun.” He fumbled with his fly and let his already-hard cock spring free. “Give you something to do with them pretty red lips. Go ahead, give it a lick.”  
  
The Soldier breathed through his nose. This, he knew how to do. Not from recreational missions, but from standard obedience training with his handler. Pierce liked to have him kneel between his legs and suck him off while he got his hair petted. It was a messy but undemanding task and the praise it earned him was wonderful.  
  
He had cause to doubt it would be so fulfilling an affair here and now.  
  
But he knew what to do: the miniskirt fanned out around his thighs when he sank down to his knees. He laid his metal hand on Rumlow’s thigh for support and looped his real fingers around the base of his cock as he swallowed it down. Rumlow groaned pleasurably as the Soldier began to bob and suck.  
  
“Yeah, good girl, work it, just like that,” Rumlow hissed. “Your lips look so good wrapped around my dick. They were made for sucking cock. You’re a natural, babe, keep going.”  
  
There was rummaging movement, and then a bright light flashing in his face from above: Rumlow had pulled out his phone to take a photo, chuckling about how the boys were gonna  _love_  this. Fucking perfect. Now all of STRIKE would have this idea in their meatball heads. The Soldier made an unhappy noise but didn’t let himself dwell. There’d be time to worry about that later on.  
  
The Soldier found himself given rein to work Rumlow for a few minutes. Bitter drops of precum dribbled onto his tongue. When he groped at Rumlow’s balls he found them pulling up: he was just about ready to blow. Thank god it’d be over soon.  
  
That’s when Rumlow put his hands on either side of the Soldier’s head and told him, “Relax for me, I’ll finish the job for you. Good girl, just keep that pretty mouth open.”  
  
Rumlow taking over meant fucking the Soldier’s face. He thrust in quick, groaning about the wet heat of the Soldier’s mouth, and told him to get ready for a treat.   
  
The Soldier’s face burned with humiliation and lack of air as he allowed this man to pound into his mouth like he was nothing more than a wet hole to fuck. The smell and taste of his cock overwhelmed his senses. The agent’s hips mashed into his nose over and over. Finally Rumlow let out a sharp moan and spent himself on the back of the Soldier’s tongue, bitter-salty and thick. It made him gag—he was used to setting his own pace for this part—but he knew from experience that he was meant to swallow, so he did.  
  
For a minute Rumlow held on and kept his cock in the Soldier’s mouth, rocking softly.   
  
“Good girl,” he sighed. “Such a good little cocksucker. Got lipstick all over my dick but it was worth it.” He chuckled to himself; the Soldier did not share his levity. Finally he softened enough to pop free of the Soldier’s mouth and he tucked himself away.

It was too much to hope for that that would be all Rumlow wanted. The Soldier got manhandled back onto his feet and then backed up to the bed. Groping hands returned to paw at his ass and Rumlow worried at the Soldier’s collarbone with his teeth.   
  
Bit his earlobe, too. He jerked away but Rumlow seized him by the hair to make him stay still: more a symbolic gesture of dominance than anything.  
  
“Gonna play with your pussy an’ get you all wet for me,” the agent breathed in his ear. “You’ll like that. Get my fingers in you till you’re soaking wet, and then you can have my cock again. You want that, baby?”  
  
Fuck no. The Soldier clenched his jaw and nodded. A sharp tug on his hair prompted him to elaborate: “I want your fingers in me. Please, finger my pussy.”  
  
“Yeah, eager little slut. Can’t wait to find out what it’s like to have a man tickle your cunt from the inside. Lay down for me, baby. That’s it, spread your legs for me, don’t be shy.” God, this man was  _ridiculous._  Rumlow took him by the shoulders and laid him down, then by the knees to open his thighs. He fought to steady his breath. At least he wasn’t going to get it dry.  
  
Rumlow reached up the skirt and pulled the lacy little panties down slowly, peppering bites across the Soldier’s meaty thighs along the way. Instead of pulling them all the way off, Rumlow left them to dangle from the Soldier’s left ankle. He crowded in close and put his hand back up the miniskirt; this time, he probed around until he was pressing a fingertip into the Soldier’s ass.  
  
He grunted a little in discomfort, then sucked in a breath as the entire finger followed, right up to the knuckle. The sensitive flesh of his anus throbbed with the stretch.  
  
“Yeahhh, you like that,” Rumlow declared, wiggling his finger around. “You’re so tight, baby. Pretty virgin like you, of course you’re tight. Gonna get wet for me?”  
  
The Soldier  _highly_  doubted he actually wanted that. At least he really fucking hoped Rumlow didn’t actually want that. Blessedly, it turned out he was right: Rumlow fished a bottle of lube out of a thigh pocket and drizzled it down his own fingers. One finger became two, steadily pumping in and out of the Soldier’s asshole. He couldn’t help but squirm. The sensation wasn’t bad per se, nor was it wholly good, but it was  _too much._  It was overwhelming and made him pant for air. He tried to close his legs only for them to be harshly shoved apart again.  
  
“Relax, baby, keep those legs open. Your pussy’s so hot I just wanna get my junk in there balls and all. Getting nice and wet now, too. I bet I can make you soaking wet.” Rumlow scissored his fingers apart and the Soldier groaned. “Tell you what, girlie. You tell me when you think you’re ready, huh? Tell me when your little cunny’s ready to take Brock’s big fat dick.”  
  
Never, really, but he knew that wasn’t really a choice. Rumlow forced the Soldier’s legs up to tilt his hips, prised the Soldier’s ass open with his fingers, and poured lube directly into his rectum. It was cold, but effective: sure enough, he was sopping wet inside.   
  
More than anything he just wanted it to be over. So he swallowed his pride and begged like Rumlow clearly wanted him to: “Please, please, fuck me, fuck my pussy.”  
  
“Gonna fuck that pussy so good,” Rumlow agreed. His fingers left the Soldier’s body (too quick for comfort) and he opened his fly again. This time it took a few strokes to get him to full erection. “Oh you’re gonna love this, baby. You were made for taking cock...gonna show you how good it feels to do what you’re really meant for.”  
  
Once again he pushed the Soldier’s legs up, up, hooked each knee over his shoulders, and in one coarse thrust pushed his girthy cock inside. The stretch pinched and burned something fierce. It felt  _terrible,_  and then tolerable, and the Soldier turned his head away so he wouldn’t have to watch the man on top of him as Rumlow pulled back and fucked his way back in.   
  
The Soldier focused on keeping his breath steady and tried to retreat into his own mind. He focused on the far wall instead of the steady stream of filth Rumlow spewed about his tight, wet cunt. He focused on the sensations of the rough blanket beneath him and the movements of his arm plates instead of the implacable intrusion in his hole. The stretch and fullness and smooth, slick glide of Rumlow’s flesh held him in bondage to the present. He kept his body lax, let it rock with the force of each thrust. It would be over soon. It had to be over soon.  
  
Light flashed on him again, and again. More photos. “Yeah, that’s good, sweetie, take that cock. This’ll be a real treat for the boys too. They’re gonna be so fuckin’ jealous I got to you first. Gonna be lining up to feel this hot cunt. Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you. Easy slut like you’d spread your legs for anyone. But I got you first. Gonna mark that pussy up with my come, seed you good. Move your hips, baby, that’s right.”  
  
The Soldier squeezed his eyes shut and bucked up as Rumlow slid back in. He let his hips sag as the agent’s cock pulled back; wash, rinse, repeat, built a rhythm because it was something to do besides lie there and take it like some sort of part-machine sex doll. His breath came faster. In time his body started to react, as bodies are wont to do whether the mind is on board or not.  
  
Rumlow noticed the Soldier’s erection holding up the hem of the miniskirt and made a choked-off noise. He lost his erection. Lost his temper, too.  
  
In the blink of an eye he grabbed one fistful of the Soldier’s hair and used the other to punch him in the face, one blow after another. “Get that fucking thing out of my face! I told them I wanted a bitch, not a fag! The fuck is wrong with you, you queer piece of shit?!”  
  
Unexpected. Unwarranted. Agitated beyond sense, the Winter Soldier propped himself up on his elbows and spat back, “You wanted me to enjoy it!”  
  
“Don’t talk back to me, y’fucking faggot,” Rumlow bellowed as he backhanded the Soldier hard enough to rock him to one side. He followed it up with a gut punch and more blows to the head. Luckily, he didn’t punch as hard as he thought he did. “You’re lucky I ain’t got a shock stick in here or I’d fucking show you what I do to fag boners!”  
  
The next uppercut to the chin was, admittedly, a doozy, wrenching the Soldier’s neck painfully. He knew better than to defend himself. The punishment he was getting now would pale in comparison to what he’d get if he did in fact tear Rumlow’s arms off. The reminder about stun batons was enough to quiet him down.  
  
Lacking a supersoldier’s stamina, Rumlow wore himself out within a few minutes, though by that time the Soldier had a bloody face. Rumlow flipped him over and shoved him into position—head down, ass up—and forced his cock back inside. Nothing like some senseless violence to get a STRIKE dog’s blood back up.  
  
“Stupid bitch, don’t you ever forget who’s fucking who here,” Rumlow spat. He fucked the Soldier so hard he inched up the bed and had to grab the frame to brace himself. “Goddamn slut. Dumbshit girl just keeps fucking up, don’t you. It’s like you don’t even know what you’re for. Well lemme tell ya, girlie, this cunt right here?” He dug a thumb in alongside his cock, and the Soldier winced. “This is just a place for men to dump their come. You’re my cumdumpster, ya dumb bitch, so just  _lie there_  like a  _good girl_  and  _take it!_ ”  
  
The Soldier did, indeed, just lie there and take it this time. His face and ass both throbbed; he had to snort to clear blood from his nose. As the brutal fucking went on his idiot cock started to react again but at least Rumlow couldn’t see it while pounding him from behind.  
  
He tried to imagine his handler in Rumlow’s place. Pierce would be implacable if he fucked the Soldier, but there would be hair petting and crooning words and no irritating fucking bra scratching across his nipples the whole time. He was certain of it.  
  
Distantly he heard a refrain of “Take it, take it, gonna breed that cunt” as the violation wore on. Not nearly soon enough, Rumlow’s thrusts came shorter and faster, culminating in a handful of bone-shaking thrusts and a loud groan that heralded his orgasm. Warm wetness spread inside him, dripping along his inner walls. He closed his eyes and thanked his makers there wasn’t more.  
  
Rumlow smacked his ass and pulled out at long last. A hand spread his asscheeks for a few more photos of what Rumlow called a “well-seeded pussy” before he stood.  
  
“Final orders, Asset,” Rumlow sniffed. “Hold that position until the techs come collect you. I want you to keep my come in that cunt of yours. Paint you white inside and remind you whose you are.”  
  
Hydra’s. He belonged to Hydra. He’d never wanted to tell someone to go fuck himself so much in his long, awful life. At least, not that he could remember.  
  
The Winter Soldier obeyed, and glared death at Rumlow’s back as he left the room. That’s one of them satisfied, at least. There would be fallout for sure, but for now, he simply went back to waiting—for medical attention, for orders, for a mission—for anything but this.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and tormented!Bucky give me life.


End file.
